iDon't Know Where My Heart Belongs
by Double-A-B
Summary: It's just the clichés of best friends in love, opposites attracting, and choosing when you can't.


**Disclaimer: I don't own _iCarly._**

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><p>He stays up late, just staring at the ceiling. Tomorrow is graduation. Everyone is going to different places, summer break will really just be one month instead of three, iCarly will come to an end. This isn't the only thought that's biting at his brain like a beavecoon.<p>

Two other thoughts are in his head. The first being why he decided it be a good idea to have so much sugar and caffeine. That rush left him hours ago and now he can't go to sleep. Sleep is one of the top things he wants at this moment. He wants to be lost in his dreams, not his thoughts of how he'll never get to see most of his friends (most, not all). Damn girls and a Gibby with their 'Truth or Dare' games.

Girls. That's the second thought that keeps whispering, 'Which one cukey little Fredwad, which one?'

Cukey. Fredwad. Of course it toys with him with _those_ choice of words. Thoughts of how in the past few days, a certain blonde hugged him longer than usual and a brunette kissed him on the cheek for helping out. These thoughts flash before his eyes.

'It's graduation,' he thinks to himself, 'They're just, you know, sad and nervous.'

_Really?_ keeps playing on repeat in his head.

_You're sure it means nothing more?_

_You're a smart boy, Benson. You're not dense._

'Sometimes, I am,' he thinks out loud.

**'Time flies when you're having fun'**

They're all wearing their caps and gowns with pants, skinny jeans, and t-shirts that say 'Butter Nubs,' 'Quack Smack,' and other ridiculous phrases underneath. Written on them are signatures by everyone, for everyone.

_'You're my man, Gibb.'_

_'See you later, partner-in-crime, Wendy.'_

_'My shirt's off to you.'_

_'Stay nerdy, sweet boy.'_

_'I'll always miss you.'_

These are just a few phrases signed with colorful sharpies. Hopefully, they shouldn't, but they're so damn strong with emotions, so hopefully, the tears don't go through the gowns and ruin the signatures that'll always be with them.

When Mr. Valedictorian gives his speech, he keeps it short & simple (he was swayed from a tug and a punch to his arm). When he says his final words, they all clap, cheer, and smile as he walks down to his seat. Everyone cheers loudly when the names 'Gibby Gibson' and 'Samantha Pucket' are spoken (and laugh when she gives her death stare to Franklin, then they 'Aw!' as she hugs him with a smile). In the final coutdown, Principal Franklin starts it off. They all join in.

"You're all graduating in 5.

4.

3.

2."

The one can't be heard because that's when they throw their hats and scream.

**'It's always darkest before the dawn'**

They hold a party at the loft. Spencer and Socko are out on double dates with 'these two girls we met who love sculpting and weird socks!', so beer is brought (blonde's idea, not the brunette's). Everyone is talking, dancing (Gibby, in this case, without a shirt but with a lamp shade), kissing, or something else. Just teens being teens.

He walks by with some non-spiked punch (someone _has_ to be responsible) when he hears, 'Yo, Freddo!'

He turns to see her just sitting on a beanbag with a beer in her hand. She's a bit, but not too much (a 'too much' would be her mom on that 'special Saturday.' Oh what fun!) drunk. He smiles and walks up to her. She signals her hand to sit in the one next to her.

"Come on," she slurs, "I don't bite . . . much."

He laughs and sits next to her. Even when like this, he can't help but feel intoxicated in her sweet-but-sour aroma.

"Hey," he says, "What's up?"

"Just," she says, "living it up!"

"Ha, I'll say."

"Is that supposed to mean something?"

"Nope."

He has a smug grin on, and her face changes from angry to giggly. They both just laugh away. After a while, she hands out her beer and says, "To life."

He clashes her bottle with hs cup and says, "To life."

After the liquids go down their throats, she laughs a bit and says, "You want to know something?"

"Sure," he says, that grin still planted on him, "What is it?"

"You know, you were the nicest boyfriend I ever had."

Now he has a half-smile, because it doesn't know whether to complete or go blank.

"Really?"

"Yeah," she says, "Just thought I'd let you know because . . ."

His half-smile is off, her face turns serious and she says . . .

"I miss you."

He doesn't know what to say. She leans in a bit, but he doesn't. When she's oh, so close, they hear his name called.

"I-I got to go." he says. She doesn't give a reply, so he leaves. When he's gone, she just sits back.

"Whatever."

It's so far from simply 'whatever'.

**'Actions speak louder than words'**

Being the responsible one, he stays when the party's done and cleans up. Beer bottles, broken and in tact, are scattered across the floor. Some people even leave their phones and/or keys, so he puts missing stuff in some baskets for later. He's just being who he is: Mister Nice Guy.

It's while he's cleaning around the computer, the final spot (thank God) that he feels something warm touch his back and neck. He turns his head to see her, the sweet brunette 'princess', only in some pink bra and panties. He blushes when he sees her, but she doesn't. She smiles.

"Hey," she says, clearly slurred from being drunk, "What you doing?"

"I'm just cleaning up," he says.

She giggles and says, "You're so nice."

"Yeah, well, I'm just me."

She locks her arms around him and says, "Not all nice guys finish last." Then, she starts kissing his neck and move her hands toward his zipper.

He gets out of her grip, then turns and holds her by the arms.

"Carly, what are you doing?" he says, surprised and redder than a tomato.

"I'm just thanking you," she says, "You're so nice, you deserve a reward."

She leans in and tries to kiss him, but he covers her lips with his finger. After the qucik surprise, hurt is shown on her face, as well as his.

"Carly," he says.

"You don't want to?" she asks, her voice cracking.

"No, I mean, Yes, but no. Look, you need rest. Let's go to your room."

When he grabs her hand, she gets out of his grip, pushes him on the couch, then jumps on top of him.

"I want you," she says sing-song like, "don't you want me?"

He's able to get her off of him (she can be pushed off easily, but can push back even harder? She's tougher than she looks, but still fragile) and he stands up, both looking at each others' eyes.

"Just get some rest, please," he says, "That can be my reward." When he turns to the door, he looks back at her when she speaks.

"Please don't go," her voice and eyes pleading for him not to.

"I love you."

He sighs, then turns toward the door (he's always wanted this, but not like this). Before he leaves, he says, "I'll see you tomorrow."

She starts crying in the couch cushions. After about ten minutes, she fell asleep, still hiccuping in her dreams as well.

**'It's a long lane that has no turning'**

He's back in his bed, staring at the ceiling, just like this morning. He doesn't think, speak, or anything else other than look at the starry ceiling filled with space crafts fighting. Then, he turns his head to see the picture taken this day. It shows a redheaded woman, a shirtless man, a blond, a brunette, and him, in the middle, all their arms wrapped around each other, lips making smiles.

"Why couldn't life just be like this picture?" he asks himself.

His night is spent just looking at pictures of friends and aliens.

**'If it's not meant to be, it's not meant to be'**

They both wake up with splitting headaches. Their hairs are covering their face, and it feels like the pillows they slept with are damp. They wonder what happened last night. Then, they remember the actions taken, the words they spoke.

_'I miss you.'_

_'I love you.'_

And they both think that, maybe, it wasn't just the alcohol speaking.


End file.
